The weekend consumption diary for a random Washingtonian.

In Food Money Sex, we ask anonymous Washingtonians to diary the food they ate, the money they spent, and the sex they had over the course of their weekends. On Mondays, we put it on the internet. This week:

Does: Government Contractor, 27

Lives: Apartment on H street with Boyfriend

Is: Female

Makes: $93,000

Married? Contemplating either marriage or manslaughter

Food:

Friday: Got to work early armed with the knowledge I’d be leaving early—my goal every Friday. And like every Friday, it didn’t happen (why must people make my life difficult?). Brought both breakfast and lunch in an attempt to complete a full week of prepped meals like a goddamn adult. Breakfast was peach cobbler-inspired overnight oats. Lunch was shredded rotisserie chicken and curry cous cous. Got home and hit the gym if only to look like I was exercising (texting on a bike is still technically exercising). Quick phone call to the boyfriend (almost bed time in Germany for him) before more rotisserie chicken for dinner with a side of pumpkin ale. Did absolutely nothing the rest of the night with Bacardi tonics and my cat on the balcony, people watching. It was glorious.

Saturday: Was awakened by said ungrateful cat at 4:30AM—prime time for playing with his loudest toys. Went back to sleep until a whopping 9:30AM. Stirred only enough to trans-Atlantic video chat with the boyfriend. I forgot how good looking he is. Chat left me a little sexually frustrated—the theme of the last six weeks— but thankfully there’s a cure for that and only requires a single AA. Got dressed and skipped breakfast in an effort to make it to my parents’ house in Arlington by 11:30—relatives were visiting from NY. Men will never appreciate the struggle of taking 40 minutes to perfect a messy bun. Parents’ house was clutch: free BBQ and booze and my favorite seven-layered dip. Downed steak sandwiches and beer brats until I could barely move. Got a text from a friend with a free Caps ticket. Headed home to DC with 30 minutes to spare so decided to take the bullet for another spin (had pictures from the boyfriend for motivation). Hopped an Uber to the Capital One Arena, grabbed a Shock Top tallboy in the hallway, then chowed down on a spicy sandwich from Chika-flika (am I the only one who calls Chick-fil-A that?) and Flying Dog in the 4th row behind the bench with the ladies (I can’t believe I found room to fit it all). Scoped out the players hard for 60 minutes and decided [Dmitry] Orlov was the best looking and potentially had the most real teeth. Hard to believe we have so many issues with Russia when you take a look at the roster…Cabbed back to H Street for Art All Night with a girlfriend. Station House, Anthology, and The Atlas. Spent a solid twenty minutes Instagramming the shit out of a tent full of multicolored tissue paper hearts blowing around like one of those money tornadoes from old-school game shows before buying a sweet jean jacket with a gangster George Washington motif on the back and trying out a Tiny House. Swung by a pop-up party, but our drink orders were being drowned out by the unnecessarily loud music so we moved on. Decided we were starving by midnight and far too sober for a Saturday night. Stopped into Mythology for the rainbow clouds, but left quickly to switch up the vibe for something more relaxed: Granville Moores. Bartender said the kitchen was closed so we drank our dinner before she brought us out a cheese platter and saltines she drummed up for us—the barkeep was easily one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Closed it down with Glenfiddich. Perfect end to a perfect night. Traipsed home and ate half a box of Turkish Delight.

Sunday: Woke up at 10AM with a headache and mini tissue paper hearts in my hair. Met up with a friend from last night and Ubered to Ted’s Bulletin in Shaw. Solved my problems with two mimosas and a platter of french toast and bacon at the bar. Guy next me us would not shut up about his supposedly overcooked eggs. Headed to Room & Board to peruse some furniture for my friends apartment—food babies in tow. Spent an hour sitting on things we had no intentions of buying and creeping on rooftop loungers. Peeled off into Trader Joe’s to pick up carrots and celery to make homemade chicken stock later. Left with riced broccoli, ground chicken, random assortment of coffee and chai, a bunch of Two Buck Chuck (which is actually three dollars, but it doesn’t sound as good), and no carrots or celery. Ubered back to H Street and ducked into the Wholefoods beneath my apartment complex for the missing ingredients then home to fling off my bra and lay on the couch and not move for 2 hours in preparation of the birth of my food baby. Realized we were out of dry cat food. Bra back on and down to Petco for some Blue Buffalo and a southwest-inspired place mat to appease the furry freeloader—he appreciated it exactly zero. Eventually arose again to toss vegetables, herbs, and saved chicken bones from the week’s rotisserie into a pot for stock. Next up: meal-prepping for the next week. Chicken, broccoli, and goat cheese patties, spaghetti squash (purchased the previous week) with mixed veggies, banana nut overnight oats, and cold brew coffee. Nibbled on a patty at some point, but mostly drank water. The detox struggle was real. Quick phone convo with the boyfriend who somehow managed to piss me off again. Was too annoyed to even flick the bean later.

Friday: Had intentions of having some *me* time, but ultimately lost interest post-phone convo with boyfriend—he can be infuriating some times.

Saturday: Masturbated twice—realized I only have the apartment to myself another week and needed to capitalize. Sexy boyfriend pictures didn’t hurt. Some days I just can’t get enough of him even when he’s not physically there.

Sunday: The boyfriend once again pissed me off, which killed my vibe. One more week until he comes back. Lots of angry sex to follow.